Story:Kings of Strife/Part 6
Part Six "Day eight. One day behind projected schedule - no real problems. Progress is good. Resting." Vikcent clicked off his voice recorder and put it back in his coat. The resource would be solid evidence of his bravery when he accomplished his mission and returned to the government. Shivering, he sat on the cold ground while leaning on a face of snowy rock. Just as he had predicted, the weather high on Mount Gulg was amazingly cold, more frigid than anything he’d ever encountered. It was cold up here, always so cold, and Vik had long since begun to despise this extreme temperature. It was very hard to get used to, especially since he wasn’t anywhere near the top of the mountain and the knowledge that it could somehow get even colder taunted him. The higher he climbed, the higher the summit seemed to stretch, no matter how high he was above ground. At this height snow didn't fall just yet, but it blanketed the ground and the rocks. Looking down, Vik saw nothing but vague grey clouds - and for good reason. He had been climbing Mount Gulg for eight days so far, and had pulled himself up hundreds of feet worth of snow and rocks. The mountain’s full height wasn't even fully documented yet - any and all expeditions to the summit had always ended in failure. “Even more reason for me to pray that my theory is correct,” Vik murmured to himself. By day five, he had become so tired that he started to talk to himself. Eight days of continuous climbing up and around the slope and Vik was physically tired. His arms ached, his legs trembled, and breathing was difficult at this elevation. His food rations were going smoothly, but would run out in another ten days. Even after all this time, he was almost around a quarter to the top of Mount Gulg, he assumed. At this point, now that the ascension had begun to transition towards vertical climbing and not just walking up a steep hillside, he found himself physically challenged like never before. Nothing could have prepared him for this ordeal other than performing it himself, a conclusion that had finally persuaded him to go about his mission. Rocks and steep hills, freezing winds and monotone whiteness, all of the elements that painted a pure canvas, were alarmingly dangerous to him, and he wanted to shun them. But that was not an option. Even with the high-level military information he had stolen, it was still almost impossible to find the location of any Crystal, but something told him that there was one in or around Mount Gulg. The problem was finding it. His theory was that all expeditions to the top were inherently flawed. Nowhere in the past Crystal legends or old documents was it mentioned that Mount Gulg had to be climbed - it was always "Gulg holds the Crystal of Fire" or something like that. So Vik reasoned that he didn't have to get to the top - doing so would be suicide anyway. The only other reasonable solution would be to find a way inside. Gulg was a volcano, which meant it wasn't composed entirely of rock - there had to be a hollow opening somewhere in the peak. So he had to just search around the mountain until he found a way inside. That was proving easier said than done. Deciding he had rested enough, Vik stood up and rubbed his gloved hands together to gather some scarce warmth. He picked up his pickaxe and put his rifle and backpack back on his back. Methodically he raised his pickaxe and took a few swings at rock faces and edifices. Thus began yet another search for a way inside. “Only about another ten days of supplies… Two more days of searching before I have to head back down.” He was prepared to resupply and return to the mountain if he had to – there would be no stopping the search until he found what we was looking for. Once the Crystal was in his hands, he could make sure it stayed out of Ouroboros’. Searching and constantly striking the frigid rock wasn't easy, and he found that he couldn’t sleep much in the blinding cold, so his strength wasn't at its best, but he wouldn't allow himself give up or give into weakness. Not until he had accomplished his goal. As the wind buffeted his body and sliced through the various layers of clothing he wore, Vik shivered uncontrollably, but he never stopped talking to himself and repeating his motivation to himself over and over. “No hesitation. No hesitation. No hesitation.” He went about his way for hours, slashing and picking at the wall of rock, until unexpectedly a large pile of rock and snow fell to his blow. That last swing had felt hollow. He stared at the hole in the mountain he had just created for a moment before he continued to axe away an entrance, suddenly energized with adrenaline and excitement. “I was right?!” Vik himself couldn’t even believe that he had already found a way inside the gigantic volcano. Carving open an entrance big enough for him to go through took another hour, and by the end his arms burned with exhaustion. The inside of the cavern he had uncovered was pitch black, almost like an abyss. There was definitely space inside - perhaps he had succeeded after all. Vik readjusted the rifle strap around his shoulders and crept inside. It was unlikely that any threat awaited him inside, but it was a risk he’d rather not take. The inside of the mountain was surprisingly cavernous, and by sheer stroke of luck there was a floor under his feet when he stepped in. Right from the start, that was odd. Why would there be a developed cavern like this in a hollow volcano? He couldn't imagine an answer and let the question drift back into his mind. From where he entered, a wide and tall natural corridor of sorts branched off for a ways until it opened up into what looked like a huge, open room. The ceiling was very high - if he had climbed any higher, he wouldn't have been able to find the floor beneath him. The cave was labyrinthine, with many twists, turns, and branching paths. Vik traveled at random, taking whichever path suited his fancy at the time. As he traveled in the cavern, Vik left deep arrow-like scratches on the right side of the walls he passed, keeping close to them so that he could leave without issue just by keeping the arrows on his left, going in the opposite direction they pointed out. Most noticeable to him as he walked was the huge difference of temperature inside the cave. Once he walked a fair distance from the slope opening, the area got a lot warmer, and the walls seemed to radiate heat. He started to sweat very quickly, and went about removing his coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and equipment. He left them in a bundle by the entrance and put his backpack back on. Next he checked his rifle and put it back on his back, brandishing his pickaxe in front of him. It was very dark ahead of him, but his battery powered flashlight fixed that problem. He had more than enough batteries to last almost half of an entire day, so he didn't have to worry about running out of light any time soon. The inside was much larger than Vik would have thought, and he ended up traveling for hours. Many times he came upon a tunnel that already had his marks on them, and often the tunnel was too tight to walk upright in. “Where could all of these come from? Who has been in here before?” He wondered to himself. The tunnels were too long, too complex to simply be naturally formed. Even more mysterious was the fact that the floor on the cavern, Vik realized after a long while, began to slope upwards. Alarmingly, the higher he got, the hotter the air seemed to get. He wanted to chalk it up to hidden magma, but that didn't make much sense - why would there be more magma the higher he went? The heat and the basic structure of the caves boggled his mind, defying any possible explanation. They weren't manmade or supported, obviously, but their simple existence was harrowing. How did they get there? Where were they leading him? Eventually Vik found himself almost out of breath from the heat, and contemplation became almost difficult. “It's got to have been hours already...” His clothes clung to him over a thin layer of sweat. His pickaxe was beginning to slip out of his hands and moving his arms elicited agonizing groans from the pain. His rations were keeping him from starving, but they weren't satisfying in any shape or form. “Worry not, my friends. I’ll make it. I swear.” His thoughts were less to reassure his dead comrades and more to reassure himself. Still he continued onward, reaching a point where touching the now scorching walls caused pain to his hands. They were beginning to seem tinted with red, and light almost reached from them in waves. His flashlight was starting to become obsolete. Blisters were beginning to form from how tightly he clung to his axe. “Where is this light coming from? What is this place?” Without his even realizing it, his feet no longer made rustling noises or kicked apart ground debris. The walls were no longer composed of hard, ancient rock - eventually they had become covered by some pure red crimson substance, almost translucent, almost crystalline. His axe no longer cut into his surroundings, or even scratched their surface. Looking back, he noticed that this continued for long past his eyesight. The cavern Vik was in was now wide and empty, lonely and deserted. His involuntary gasp of wonder echoed across the plane. Instinctively he reached out to touch the walls but decided against it - a burn would seriously hinder the climb down, and the heat was already threatening to do just that. “Nowhere to go but forward”, the Nneonian soldier reasoned. He staggered onward towards a bright crimson-orange light directly in front of him. The heat was getting intoxicating and his vision was starting to blur. Finally, miraculously, he made it to the source of the light. What seemed like a foolish legend, a dreamy endeavor, had unfolded before his very eyes. The cave continued to drag on and on, but the ground stopped abruptly on a cliff before a boiling sea of pure lava. Like a miniature sun, the object floating in the air before the cut off was letting out almost visible heat waves. It hovered over a circle of some unknown, ancient dead language that were colored in vermillion script. His only instinct was not to run, but to embrace what he knew had to be the Crystal. Somehow, Vikcent Hyusei knew in his heart that this was what he was looking for, and he was destined to have it. His pickaxe fell with a clang to the metallic floor and he wrapped both of his bare hands around the Crystal. Instantly he was met with terrible, searing pain. The flames licked over his skin with the speed of a flash, melting through his cells and teasing his bones. Vik could feel his nerves popping and his blood evaporating with the terrible heat. He screamed with all he had, and his screams of pain echoed off the walls and bounced into his ears. He dropped his bag and opened up the smallest, empty pouch with his foot, somehow managing to drop the Crystal inside of it as fast as he could. His skin dripped off the stumps that were his arms, blood rushing like a waterfall before evaporating in the heat. Vik bent down, his eyes vision blurry from tears, and somehow managed to zip up the bag with his teeth. As soon as this was done, the heat from the Crystal immediately ceased to exist. It took Vik a moment to realize that he was no longer in pain, and that he could feel his body again. He looked at his hands with wide eyes as he sweated profusely. No damage. A bubble popped from the sea of molten lava in front of him, and the cave growled with a deep rumble. The sweating soldier gaped at his completely intact hands for a minute before started to gather his things. Vik looked around in alarm with an open, panting mouth. Startlingly, the ground and walls were beginning to crack Something told him that whatever was happening in the innards of the mountain was not something he wanted to witness. A plan of action formulated reflexively, but his fingers clumsily lagged in their attempt to carry it out. He sluggishly picked up his pickaxe and held on to the strap of his bag and rifle as he started running back the way he came. Soon he left the crystal chamber and was following his tracks. To his surprise, even as he rapidly descended towards his entrance, the temperature of the cavern continued to rise higher and higher. “How is this possible? Is it because I took that crystal?!” He shook those thoughts from his head and focused on his escape. He would rather be off this mountain than to see what he caused. “No hesitation.” He alternated between running and limping through the cave for the next hour. His entire body cried out with every step for him to rest, but the rising heat and urgency in the area prevented any hopes of recreation. Finally, Vik was almost out of the cavern when he stopped. After hours of running, quickly walking, and running some more, he could see the hole that he arrived in. There was more than his equipment in a bundle by the opening. Something was there, something that he did not leave. Someone was there. All urgency momentarily lost in his confusion, Vik walked towards the figure. Right there, beside his messy bundle of bags and tools, he could see a pale boy in revealing dark clothes, sitting on the wall of the cave in the fetal position. His eyes were closed and straight light blue hair drifted over his peaceful, sleeping face. The boy’s sudden appearance made no sense… But Vik had no time to wonder about what was going on. So Vik picked the boy up – who was surprisingly light – and hefted him onto his shoulders after putting his snow coat, gloves, and bags back on. The added weight was enough to make his legs buckle, but Vik was having no weakness. Adrenaline strengthened his bones, and bravely the soldier burst through the cave opening back into the frigid outside. Snow was lightly falling on the outside, and the cold hit Vik like bricks. The boy did not speak, nor did he wake for the next hour. Once he did, he yawned and shivered; Vik removed his scarf and coat and wrapped the frigid boy in them before continuing. The mountain continued to tremble beneath his feet, and snow continued to fall from its peak, but there were no other massive changes. It took another six days for Vik and the mysterious boy to return to the ground again. By the beginning of the sixth day, all rations had expired due to a second mouth to feed, and Vik gave his last morsel to the boy who had yet to speak to him. The trek downwards was overall easier than the climb, but without a scarf or coat, Vik felt like he was going to freeze. The few hours of sleep he got resting were never enough to remove the ache from his entire body, and he was beginning to shiver and sniff unconsciously. He felt like he would never recover. The town of Mountanus awaited the two. A town famous for being at the summit for Mount Gulg, it was built only eighty years prior, but had a respectable size and repute due to tourists. It was currently autumn, and with winter on the horizon, the amount of people lining up to try their hand on the mountain was declining steadily. None of the inns in the town were full, and within an hour of arrival Vik had booked a small room for himself and the boy. It was that night, as Vik sat in the corner of the room shivering, that the boy spoke for the first time. “My name is Hasey. Hasey Troblum.” The petite boy had been sitting on the only bed in the room, his legs crossed and his arms limply at his side. He had been staring at Vik since the two of them entered the small bedroom hours earlier. Vik had been dozing off, and upon being spoken to he looked up at the boy in surprise. “You… Um, okay.” He sneezed. “Glad to see you’re not a mute.” He had been wondering how to approach the awkwardly silent boy. “I suppose you’ve been waiting on an explanation. For everything.” “Well… yeah.” Vik sniffed. He found it hard to look the boy in the eyes. Hasey had a sharp and heartless face, and he spoke with cold detachment. Unconsciously, Vik cradled his waist pouch in response to his companion’s coldness. The waist pouch was where he kept the Crystal. “I want to say thank you, for saving me. It’s a great and honorable service you’ve done.” Hasey looked down, away from Vik’s unshaven and drawn face, and gazed into the window of the bedroom. Its blinds were closed, but through its slits the gigantic mountain was visible. It cast a shadow onto Hasey’s face. “Don’t worry about it,” Vik muttered. “I’m used to doing stuff like that.” Hasey chuckled. “Stuff like climbing the tallest mountain in the world?” Vik looked at the boy without comprehension. He hadn’t pegged the boy as being very humorous, before. “What about you? What were you doing there, alone and unconscious? And inside?” After six days of continuous, grueling travel, Vik could not figure out a satisfying answer to this question. “I was fleeing an enemy great and mighty.” Although he still wore a slight smile, the humor had drained from Hasey’s face. He looked to Vik. “I am in danger here. We all are.” The soldier did not know what to say. “Here? Like, this inn? Who could you have been running from?” Vik looked over the boy in search of answers, and only found observations of the young man’s calloused hands, his unflinching gray eyes, his slender yet toned body. “I cannot say. I do not fully remember. That is why I hadn’t spoken – I’ve been gathering my thoughts. It’s all been a blur…” Hasey’s face flashed with pain. “I remember losing them. I remember running. My friend – did you see them, while you climbed? Did you find her?” “Her…? Was there someone else?” Hasey’s eyes fell. “So you didn’t even find her body. It’s a large mountain, I understand. Don’t sweat it.” Vik shivered. “So… You were running from someone. And you came onto the mountain to hide? I didn’t find anyone else. No bodies, no climbers.” His voice trailed off at the end. They both knew that if Vik did not see them, whoever had come behind Hasey must have been dead and gone, buried beneath the snow and never to be seen again. “What did they want from you?” “I cannot say. I must have known something, but my memory is fuzzy… It doesn’t make sense to me how I don’t remember, but it must have been on purpose. I don’t have any wounds, so I probably did something to myself so I don’t know anything in worst-case scenario of me being captured. I must have been ready to…” Hasey shivered on the tail end of his words despite the warmth of the room. Vik did, as well; he was not feeling well after being exposed to the elements for so long. “Well… There’s a chance you were being chased by criminals. I’ll take you to Nures – I know some military men there who can –“ “No!” Hasey interjected. Vik looked at him with a start. “I mean… Something about that idea gives me a bad feeling. I just… I’m sorry.” The boy lowered his head and his navy blue bangs shrouded his eyes. “That’s not where I need to go. I can feel that in my heart.” “Well then,” Vik stated with another sneeze, “Where is it that you have to go? If you don’t remember any names, surely you remember a temperature, or a vision, or something. It doesn’t have to be now. We can rest here for a couple days, if you’d like.” “That won’t be necessary. Snow. I remember snow. It was very cold.” Hasey massaged his temples. “Snow…?” That already discounted Hasey originating from anywhere in Nneoh besides Mount Gulg. As a soldier, Vik was required to know some semblance of geography, and the only places he could remember that had both snow and very cold temperatures were northern Shimura, on the Inusian continent, and Norzaven, north and north still, a set of two continents at the crown of the world. Nobody still breathing lived in Shimura after the Plague had struck almost fifteen years ago, and Norzaven was so far away from Nneoh that travel would be very expensive. “I’m sure of it,” Hasey reinforced. “The cold on Mount Gulg did not faze me as much as it did you. I know something of snow.” Vik shivered and wrapped a blanket around himself. “...Right, then. I suppose I can escort you to Norzaven.” He figured that it would be fine for him to take a detour for this child – more time away from Nneoh might be more time for Ouroboros to lose his trail. Getting in and out of the country would be easiest in an airship, but soon the government would realize he had deserted and likely start a manhunt for him. The journey had to be by sea, then, from one of Nneoh’s northeastern ports. The journey would go south, traveling the curve of the world and skirting the ice until they arrived at Northern Norzaven. From there, the two would take it all by ear. “I’m sorry,” Hasey stated as he looked back at the shadow of Mount Gulg in the horizon. Smoke was beginning to become denser around its gigantic girth. “I know you probably have things you’d rather do instead. I really appreciate this.” “Don’t worry about it,” Vik said with a sniff. “Justice is helping those in need. My father taught me that.” ***** The heavily armored one stood behind the Leader, as always. There were two of them in armor, but the one in heavy silver always stood behind the Leader. Their armor was huge, horned, savage in design, and breathtakingly beautiful. Battle scars affected the luster of the metal, and a long red cape billowed from beneath oversized shoulder protectors. Naturally the owner of the armor wore a helmet with slick black eye-holes and two tall, demonic esque horns, an addition to the ensemble that demanded its own form of artisan respect. Here, in this dark room that many Knights stood in, the armored one’s coverings were barely visible... but they commanded respect regardless. The Leader held an even stronger aura of fear and respect. He was always under numerous heavy cloaks that might have had a mystical quality about them, an alchemical air of antagonizing physics, all made of fabrics that alternated from being black and purple, almost shifting on an invisible background feed. The only things visible from beneath his reality-defying attire were two gnarled, impossibly wrinkled, and very light gray fingers that constantly tapped around the arm-rests of the pitch black throne he sat on, moving without pause or falter. Occasionally, two glaring orange irises were visible from the dark shadow of his hood, but not often. This was one of those times in which his eyes were visible, reigning and surveying as he looked around the wide, dark room he sat and looked over. There were three Knights in attendance, besides the one in heavy armor All was according to plan, and thus it was time to begin. The man made an extremely subtle movement with his hand and the armored one behind him immediately bent to a knee, the armor they wore slamming to the ground to silence an already deathly quiet chamber. Their cape slithered over the floor. With this, the leader stood up, all of the fabric around his short frame moving and dancing as he rose to his diminutive full form. He looked over the darkness as if he could see straight to its core, and then he spoke. "Let us begin our reports, my Knights." He stood motionless as he spoke, as he usually did, but anyone looking at him would swear he was moving still, constantly moving. Searching, looking, surveying, deciding. His voice was soft yet booming, impossibly slow and questioning yet amazingly confident and unshakable. His one activation line delivered, the Leader sat back down on his throne. The Knight in the coral blue and slate uniform then spoke softly for a few moments before looking to his Leader in approval. This Knight was tall, around six feet, much taller than the leader. He stood out from the darkness in sheer principle, his flaming red hair cascading across his face. It tailed back behind him in a sort of natural ponytail, but the rest of his uniform was the same monotone slate/coral blue. His hands were in the pockets of his pants, but he stood with a respectful stature as he faced his shadowy leader. His forehead twitched in expectation, and the leader's hood seemed to nod. The movement was subtle enough, and the Knight stepped back to the line of his fellow Knights. His turn was over, and he breathed a sigh of relief and removed a cigarette from his pocket, letting it sit in his lips without lighting it. Not just yet, he allowed. Next was the Black Knight. He stepped forward with a resound, his pitch black boots resonating off the hard floor cloaked in darkness. If the room was dark, this Knight grabbed the very darkness and flung it around him like a cape. All of his armor, much slimmer than the Knight that stood guard over the leader, was dark and medium-heavy. It clung to him like an inky shadow, outlining his body while allowing maximum protection. The only shock was his face, as he had also left behind his helmet. Bright blond, short cropped hair graced his head and a long goatee tickled his collar. He stood as the previous Knight did, watching for his master's approval. Unlike his predecessor, this one's face was tightly in a mask of respect and fear. Or perhaps it wasn't a mask. The leader gave another subtle, barely noticeable nod, and spoke once again. "Speak, my child.” His voice was hoarse and purposeful, as though dragged through a gauntlet of obstacles just to be heard. The Black Knight looked down and then back up to the Leader. "As you wish it, my Leader. It is my duty to give my report and I take it with honor." He banged his chestplate with an armored fist before lowering his arm again. The ritual over, he now spoke with a less booming voice. The Knight in the uniform behind him chuckled lightly; that part always amused him. "Most has already been spoken by those before me. As you predicted, the Flame child has found his egg. P7 will not let him escape. As well, V8 is trailing them. The plan is in motion." The leader nodded subtly once again, as if his muscles couldn't support a full-sized nod. The armored Knight behind him walked to his side leisurely, somehow not making any noise on the hard floor. “Where is the Wind?” Asked the armored Knight behind the leader. “And where is C0?” The Black Knight looked at the Knight who spoke, their face completely hidden by a horned helmet. Absolutely no emotion could be discerned from their appearance, but he knew exactly how they felt. “Both are still missing.” The armored Knight screamed in response. “You and H4 are absolutely worthless. There are no excuses for your failures! What could be taking this long to locate these objects?!” The blond man looked at the yelling Knight with slanted eyes before letting a thin smile creep across his face. “Perhaps the Wind child has finally awoken. Perhaps C0 pursues them.” Now the Knight in silver armor did not speak, but rather stomped forward, their bright orange eyes visible from the dark visor of their helmet. "That is one more failure than you are allowed, N2. Do you need to be recycled?” A definitive hush ran through the ill-lit room. The bright orange eyes of the blond Knight appeared to radiate with hatred. “That is not your decision to make, L9.” “Then, am I to believe you may disobey the Lord and not be punished for it?” “This conversation is my punishment, apparently. We all know my entire life is for our Lord.” “Then relinquish it… For our Lord.” “That is quite enough, both of you,” spoke the Leader. He was amazingly soft-spoken, almost inaudible, but all arguments and movements stopped once his voice entered the air. “H4, T1, you two are dismissed. Return to your posts and continue your destinies. This matter will be handled.” The puppet-master tightly twitched his strings, and the Knights turned and left in stark silence. Their duties were concluded. “My Lord… With all due respect, All-Father…” The Black Knight broke his savage eye contact with the helmeted Knight and looked at his leader with pleading eyes. “T1 has sources across the continent, and he has not been able to find C0 at all. We would have found them if they left the country. We all know how skilled C0 was…” “Do not worry, my son,” croaked the Leader. “I knew one of my children would betray me. I have more… And what is gone may yet return.” The heavily armored Knight standing behind the Leader visibly tensed up. “My Lord… Could your humble servant take this to mean…?!” “It means nothing, L9,” clarified the Leader. “Simple musings of an old man with his dreams in sight. I can feel your emotions, both of you who are most devoted to my cause. I feel… fear.” Both Knights looked away from the Leader. “It is understandable. The tides of destiny, built up over thousands of years, have begun to creep upon the shore. We’ve been so patient… I’ve been so patient. I only ask that you continue to persevere. Not for me, not for yourselves, but for all humanity. Now, we have entered the end-game. We must finish with finesse. Is that possible, my children?” “Yes, All-Father,” spoke both L9 and N2 at once. “Good. Now…” The leader looked up, and finally his blazing orange eyes emerged. They shone with an almost unearthly quality, proving as pseudo-lanterns in the ink shade of his hood. He took about a different air, one he usually had on, his persona of confidence, endless confidence. Gone was the world-weary leader that had spoken a moment before - returned triumphantly was the ruler who presided over their society with a titanium fist and magical cloaks. "It is up to us, my Second and my Ninth, to cradle this world and take it to its next form. This era is ending, fast, and we are going to bring about the next in a boisterous fashion. I need you Knights, and it is for this purpose and this purpose I have spent all this time and created you all, every single one of you. I need you.” “Use us, All-Father,” spoke both Knights at once. “We are your tools, your weapons, and your children.” The Leader let out a laugh darker than the room around them. The lone candle in attendance, left unlit, began to melt hot wax. “That is exactly what I mean to do. L9, go and find the Hatred… And bring it to me. N2… You will follow P7 and V8 on their quest, for now. But until then… You are free to test the Flame child.” “Yes, my Lord,” the silver and black Knights stated simultaneously. They both nodded to the Leader and started to walk away. “Wait, my Lance,” mumbled the Leader. Both Knights paused at hearing his voice again, but the Black Knight sensed the loss of his Leader’s intensity and the meaning of this moment. He frowned and left the chamber. The Lance Knight turned, their crimson cape flowing behind them with the movement, and walked purposefully back to the Leader. All his powerful passion had gone – with his eyes retreated back behind his hood, the Leader looked extremely vulnerable. “Yes, my Lord?” asked the Lance Knight. “Stay with me a while, child. We have much to discuss and much to do. Your phase is not immediately upon us… Not until the moon dictates. Come to me, my Lance... Embrace me.” “Yes, All-Father. All is for my Lord.” ...End of Part Six. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page ->